


I won't let you fall

by EnlacingLines



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Confessions, Cute, Dumb boys being very dumb, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, Trapped In Elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:42:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23251135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnlacingLines/pseuds/EnlacingLines
Summary: The lift shudders, then stops. Sylvain is rocked, and collapses against the side of the lift, eyes darting around.It’s stuck. They’re stuck.Where Sylvain discovers being trapped in a lift with your crush isn't as romantic as it's cracked up to be if you're having a panic attack.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 16
Kudos: 176





	I won't let you fall

**Author's Note:**

> Back to my favourite idiots! 
> 
> This was written for the Dimivain server gift exchange! I was given several fantastic prompts, but I tried to combine: the two being dumbasses together, Sylvain fawning over how beautiful Dimitri is (this may have just come out thirsty oops), and Dima encouraging Sylvain to talk about his past. 
> 
> The rest is all out of my own terrible mind, I have no excuse. Yes, it's a trapped in an elevator fic, except I use 'lift' as I'm British.
> 
> Valania, you own my heart for betaing so quickly, thank you again!
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy!

“This is kind of your own fault,” Sylvain says, trying not to laugh. 

Dimitri  _ pouts _ . Full blown pouts which just sends Sylvain over the edge, having to hold onto a chair while he doubles over in laughter. 

“Sylvain,” Dimitri states in his most serious tone, but the entire thing is diminished as he’s wearing what is effectively, a pastel pink crop top. 

It’s not a bad look, not at all, says the part of his brain Sylvain needs to turn off immediately, as it’s not meant to surface at times like this. Or ever. Having romantic inclinations for his friend, who would never in a thousand years notice him back, is frustrating on the best days, miserable on the worst. 

Sylvain hopes that with time, this will get better, but so far, he’s not been granted any relief. Seeing Dimitri looking both adorable and hot at the same time isn’t helping. So he smothers it in laughter and puts on a mask of indifference, something he’s more than adept at. 

“I asked you if I could put my hoodie in your laundry. I showed it to you!” Sylvain says, gesturing to the new, clean, extremely red hoodie he’s wearing. 

“I did not notice the colour,” Dimitri says quietly. 

_ On second thoughts, why do I like this guy? _ Sylvain thinks with slight despair. Dimitri turns around, shoulders straining against the fabric, and Sylvain makes a quiet, pained noise which thankfully isn’t heard. 

How the clothes managed to both shrink and get dyed pink he isn’t sure, but if anyone can manage to ruin laundry, it’s Dimitri. 

“I need to replace at least some of these. You’re coming to help me,” he says sternly, turning to face Sylvain. 

“Why?” Sylvains whines to cover up the fact he would absolutely love to go shopping with Dimitri, seeing as that’s probably a weird thing to want to do. 

“Didn’t you come here to see me? You know Felix is working now. This is what we’re doing with the afternoon,” Dimitri says, then leaves, probably to find a jacket while Sylvain just sits, completely still and tries to calm down his rapidly heating face. 

Busted. So busted. But Dimitri didn’t seem bothered by it, so obviously his presence isn’t an issue. Sylvain does need to be more careful though, he thinks to himself as he listens to Dimitri rummage around his apartment. He’s becoming far too obvious, and it’s probably a little weird. He drops his head tiredly, and cannot help but inhale the scent of  _ Dimitri’s detergent _ on his top, then curses himself internally, deciding he needs a distraction. 

“Do you want me to drive?” Sylvain calls, and Dimitri sticks his head around the door-frame, the sides of his hair now pulled back away from his face. 

“If you don’t mind, that would be lovely,” he says, smiling once, then retreating back. 

Sylvain sits down on the chair and groans into his hands.  _ Lovely.  _ That smile should be illegal. It will destroy him some day. 

“Sylvain, are you alright?” 

He jumps to his feet as Dimitri enters, now with a jacket sadly obscuring the view of his midriff. Sylvain nods, not trusting his mouth to stay loyal, and his heart only flutters lightly when Dimitri holds the door open for him. 

Dimitri locks up, and Sylvain turns left out of his doorway when he’s called. 

“The lift is working, no need to use the stairs.” 

Sylvain slows and turns slowly, watching as Dimitri pushes the button and the hollow clunk of metal working seems to echo ominously. He swallows, mouth suddenly dry. The lift hadn’t been working last week, and he always challenges Felix to race down the stairs so he doesn’t have to think of excuses. 

There are reasons why Sylvain does not use lifts. But those reasons are not ones he’s capable of sharing, even with friends who have known him so long. 

“Sylvain? Hurry up,” Dimitri calls, and he snaps back to reality to see him holding the lift door ajar, clearly confused and perhaps a little annoyed at his perceived stalling. 

_ You could tell him _ , he thinks, mouth open to explain, when a burst of darkness rocks him from the back of his mind, past rolling in to shadow the present. 

“Don’t you dare tell anyone. Not that they will believe you,” sneers the voice on the other side of the door, muffled but familiar as the small space grows ever closer. 

In the now, Sylvain stumbles forward, reaching Dimitri in a half dream state, and almost trips as he enters the lift. He thinks Dimitri says something, but he’s lost the ability to hear anything, lost in a fragment of memory locked away but still so close. 

The door closes. The air seems to thin. Sylvain inhales deeply anyway. 

Dimitri’s apartment is on the tenth floor, so it really isn’t that bad. He knows he won't be in the lift for long. He inhales once more, tapping his fingers on his leg, eyes glued to the falling numbers as the contraption makes it’s slow descent. 

“Are you… alright?” Dimitri says, suddenly standing extremely close to him. 

Sylvain normally wouldn’t mind this, but right now any breach of his space causes his mind to cloud, his vision to swim and his breathing to accelerate even further. But it’s just a slow, short trip, so he nods and watches the floor number click over to six. 

As it does, the lift shudders, then stops. Sylvain is rocked, and collapses against the side of the lift, eyes darting around. 

It’s stuck. They’re stuck. 

Dimitri looks up once, sighs heavily, then moves to the call button, pressing it once. A loud ringing sound echoes and Sylvain gives up and slides onto the floor. His muscles have melted and all that’s left is the hammer of his heart in his throat and his ears, a tandem beat to the ringing bell. 

It cuts off abruptly as a tinny voice responds. “So sorry for the issue, we’ll have you out very soon. We will restart the system, which will take a maximum of ten minutes, and the lift should restart. How many of you are in there?” 

“Just two,” Dimitri replies, still focused on the voice, which Sylvain is grateful for considering he doesn’t want to explain what’s happening to him. But he only has so much time and it’s getting worse, not better. He drops his head forward, closes his eyes and tries to imagine himself anywhere but here. 

The darkness makes it worse though. He opens his eyes and stares at the floor, but this just reminds him he’s stuck in a lift, which will probably crash and fall any second, or the air will run out, or the walls will cave in, or—

“Sylvain!” 

The call of his name shatters his spiral, but still he cannot move, limbs locked and heavy, hand stuck in his hair, legs raised almost to his torso. 

“Sylvain? Can you hear me?” Dimitri’s voice says, so quiet Sylvain doesn’t think it’s real until there is a graze of a finger just below his wrist. 

He wants to jump at the unexpected touch but his body is frozen, so it has the strange effect of shocking from the inside, vision blurring for a moment before coming to. The second touch is stronger, grounding as Dimitri wraps a hand around his left arm, then does the same on the right. He doesn’t pull, doesn’t add pressure whatsoever, just encircles Sylvain in both hands.

He doesn’t try to speak again, and time must ebb, for slowly Sylvain’s body comes back online. Piece by piece, it recalls movement, and his legs suddenly flopping down in a more comfortable position, aware his feet are ringing with pins and needles. And as he does, he slowly raises his head. 

As soon as he does, Dimitri smiles, head almost nodding forward with a relieved exhalation. 

“There you are. Are you okay? No, of course not, I’m sorry, that’s—can I help?” he says, stumbling in what Sylvain would normally think is a cute way, but his mind can’t process that in this moment.

Instead, he breaks Dimitri’s hold on him, not that it takes any effort as Dimitri lets go without comment, then shuffles backwards, until his body hits the cool metal of the wall.

“I don’t like lifts,” he says, voice cracking a little on the final word. 

“I can see that,” Dimitri says, then winces. Sylvain finds a laugh escaping at the strange sincerity. 

It goes quiet then for a moment, and Sylvain feels his heart pounding hard before looking back at Dimitri. 

“How long have we been here?” he asks, trying to keep his voice steady. 

Dimitri looks at his watch. “About four minutes,” he says. Sylvain bites his lip, closing his eyes because he already feels like he’s just about holding on, and there’s still six whole minutes to go, if they get out in time. 

“Sylvain, I promise, we will be fine. It’s happened before,” Dimitri says, scooting closer to him and Sylvain just nods and he doesn’t know what else to do, already hates he’s in this situation. 

All these romantic novels where people get stuck in small spaces with the person they adore are all well and good when one of you isn’t having a panic attack. 

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri says suddenly, and Sylvain frowns. 

“What?” he says, sitting up, then cringing because it feels off balance. He leans back into the wall. 

Dimitri watches the movement with a worried expression, then shakes his head. 

“If I’d known you didn’t like lifts, I wouldn’t have insisted. Come to think of it, I don’t remember you ever taking it,” he says, voice taking on the hazy tone of remembrance. 

“For good reason,” Sylvain adds and Dimitri nods, looking back at him. 

He doesn’t ask. Sylvain knows this is an opening, but isn’t sure how to walk through. He doesn’t even know if he wants to, if he’s ready or willing to tell Dimitri about the childhood he took great pains to hide, even if now those methods are entirely spoiled. 

Dimitri is always going to look at him differently now. He’s seen him panic for no reason. He’ll always wonder. But is that better or worse than knowing the truth? Sylvain isn’t sure. 

And of course, in that moment, the lights go out. 

Sylvain screams, even though it’s only for a second before the flicker back to life. He huddles far in the corner, and Dimitri scrambles forward. 

“Sylvain, it’s fine. It was probably the system restart they mentioned. Sylvain, I promise, nothing bad will happen to you. I won’t let it,” Dimitri says, the last word said with such determination it actually makes him pause. 

He scans Dimitri, who is on his knees, close to Sylvain yet not touching, arms half outstretched towards him but not reaching fully. Sylvain’s hands shake where they rest on his legs, and he needs, in that moment, to ground himself again, feel that warmth from Dimitri once more.

So he reaches out, very slowly, unsure if this is permissible, but Dimitir decides for him, immediately taking his hand in his, linking their fingers with a flick of his wrist. Dimitri smiles at their joined hands, but his expression turns serious when he looks up once more. 

“I promise,” he repeats. 

The movement feels natural, almost as if Sylvain has no option. Drawn in by those words and actions, Sylvain slides forward, knees bumping uncomfortably on the lift floor, and drops into Dimitri’s arms. Dimitri catches him, surrounds him and Sylvian is just held. As with any of Dimitri’s hugs, it’s somewhat brutal in it’s force, but while Sylvain would assume this would make everything worse, it doesn’t. 

Dimitri is warm, and smells like freshly washed laundry, always a homey type of fragrance, and beneath it, whatever makes him who he is. It reminds Sylvain of summer nights on beach holidays when they were younger. Of midnight trips to the store for ridiculous items. Of returning back to someone always glad to see him. 

He breaths Dimitri in, his head falling naturally to the crook of his neck and he exhales. Dimitri twitches, and Sylvain grips him a little tighter, worried for a moment he may pull away, but he stays. 

Dimitri always stays. It’s what makes Sylvian start speaking, although he doesn’t look up from where he’s burrowed in. 

“My brother locked me in a store cupboard one summer when I was eleven. Small space, kept me in there for I think… six hours?” he says. He feels Dimitri freeze then unclench as he takes in the explanation. 

“Six hours,” he says, voice breathless in shock, and Sylvain nods, curling in a little more. 

“Yeah. I was a mess. No one noticed. They assumed we were fine. Haven’t liked any small spaces since,” he says, not sure how else to finish the confession, having run out of steam with just that much. 

Dimitri doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Sylvain doesn’t blame him. It’s not an easy thing to reply to. He feels his anxiety build though, the unknown rocking his mind, sending him into what ifs and maybes. 

“Sylvain,” Dimitri says, voice softer than he is expecting as he brings a hand up to Sylvain’s neck. Sylvain finds himself almost preening into the touch, as Dimitri’s thumb runs up and down in a soothing motion, a perfect rhythm. 

It enables Sylvain to raise his head, sitting up so he’s almost perched on Dimitri’s lap, head close together as Dimitri still holds onto him. They look at each other for a moment, Sylvain’s heart racing still but with an entirely different type of nervousness. 

“I think you should know, if I could, I would punch your brother,” he says so earnestly and sweetly, that Sylvain bursts out laughing. 

He buries his face back in Dimitri’s neck, shaking with the depth of his mirth, the whole spectrum of images making his head spin. Dimitri makes a wounded noise, but runs his hands down Sylvain’s back, still comforting. 

“I mean it,” he says. Sylvain sits up once more, laughing. 

“I believe you. But he’s not worth punching. Don’t even know where he is now,” Sylvain says with a shrug. 

“Oh I’d like to find him,” Dimitri says, and there’s a darkness to his tone which stops Sylvain’s laughter. 

He has seen this veiled anger in Dimitri before—it’s not new. But it’s never been on his behalf, which causes a mix of emotions; a guilty sense of joy that he cares so much, but overwhelmingly, the need to taper it. Sylvain doesn’t want to be the source of that type of negativity for him. 

“It’s okay—” 

“It's not, Sylvain. You’ve clearly been passing this off as if it means nothing but it’s not nothing. I hate that it happened to you. Now that I know, I’ll do anything I can to make it easier. I still feel terrible that we're in this situation,” he says. 

“I told you, that’s not your fault, Dimitri. I decided to get in here, I could have made an excuse. I usually do,” Sylvain says, and Dimitri offers him a sad smile. 

“You do. I should have noticed. But from now on, things will change. After all, I really do care—” 

He cuts himself off short, swallowing hard. Sylvain stills, suddenly exceptionally aware of their proximity and his heating face. He swiftly staggers to his feet, facing away from Dimitri and scratching the back of his neck. He feels more than hears Dimitri stand as well due to their close proximity and Sylvain’s apparent newly-developed Dimitri sense kicking in. 

Sylvain hugs his own arms, feeling calmer than before, but still longing to be back in Dimitri’s lap. Even if that thought makes him want to bang his head against the wall. While the stranglehold of panic is less vicelike, he can still feel the claws clenching in his chest; he knows that he isn’t magically fine. 

Yet, the relief of someone knowing is good. Better than he expected, although he’s unclear how it will fall in place in the future. But it’s not the horror he expected, and he’s beyond grateful for how Dimitri reacted. No judgement; hell, even offering to find Miklan and punch him, as well as care. 

But as bros. That’s what they are. Bros who have known each other since they were six and apparently cuddle in lifts when they break down. 

Remembering exactly where he is sends a shudder through him and Sylvain turns around to see Dimitri twisting his hands together. Sylvain blinks; he looks nervous and won’t meet Sylvain’s eyes, which is odd considering the level of conversation they’ve been having. Seeing Sylvain peering, Dimitri clears his throat. 

“Sylvain, I must tell—” 

He’s cut off as, much as before, the lift jolts without warning. Only this time, it shudders down. 

“Yes!” Sylvain yells with relief, the belt tied around his chest suddenly releasing as he jumps forward and holds up his hand to highfive Dimitri. Dimitri lifts his hand and Sylvain braces himself for the inevitable pain. He’s shocked when Dimitri lightly taps it just once. 

Then holds his hand. 

_ Are you fucking kidding me? _ Sylvain’s brain shrieks. Dimitri smiles sheepishly and Sylvain curses the person who showed him this meme (Claude, it’s definitely Claude), but feels himself turn red as he allows their hands to twist together and shuffles forward. 

“So, what are you gonna do now?” he says, grinning as Dimitri sort of stands there, mouth open a little as if he hadn’t been expecting Sylvain to respond positively. 

His eyes dart to Sylvain’s lips, and that’s all that Sylvain needs to dip forward and press a kiss to where Dimitri is waiting. And waiting he is, for as soon as there is the lightest touch he’s responding, the kiss immediately a burst of longing, barriers falling, Sylvain giving in and surging forward to deepen it. Dimitri meets him though, and simply allows Sylvain to grip him, uttering a deep contented noise similar to a sigh but with more body as Sylvain’s hands slip to his waist under his jacket. 

And find skin. He’s forgotten the shrunken top and Sylvain moans into the quiet space as he traces lightly across Dimitri’s stomach and is walked backwards for his efforts, the kiss now wet and hot, gasps exchanged as Dimitri starts to back them into the wall. Dimitri bites his lip, which might be accidental or might be a fantastic plan, but either way Sylvain is already shivering, delightfully electric as he dedicates the brimming energy inside him solely to the kiss. 

That is, until with a ping, the doors open, and they both pull away, suddenly recalling they are still in a lift. Sylvain grins, as they do, vision focused on the high flush on Dimitri’s cheeks, hair somehow askew even though his arms are still wrapped around his waist. Dimitri smiles, matching the high pink in his cheeks, joy clear, and it makes Sylvain want to scream that this is finally, magically occurring. 

But he would really like to get out of the lift first, so he turns to the side and comes face to face with Felix. He’s still in his work uniform, the gym name emblazoned on his jumper, hair tied back and bag slung over his shoulder as he stares at them. 

“Fucking  _ finally _ . But you’re disgusting. In a lift?” he says. Sylvain laughs, grabbing Dimitri’s hand and pulling him out into sweet, sweet freedom. 

“We were trapped. You should probably take the stairs,” Dimitri explains and Sylvain nods, partly listening and partly still riding the high of the kiss. 

Felix tuts, then nods. “Thanks. Now go be disgusting somewhere else,” he says, which is most likely the best congratulations they’ll get, so he launches himself at his friend and hugs him. 

“Thanks,” Sylvain whispers as Felix pretends to struggle, then let's go, moving back to wrap his hand around Dimitri's. 

“So, clothes shopping? Or, I don’t know, maybe making out in my car and then clothes shopping?” he says, twirling the keys around his free hand. 

Dimitri splutters, and Sylvain grins. It’s almost worth being trapped in a lift for. 

**Author's Note:**

> To my gift recipient: I really hope you enjoyed this, thank you for the prompts! And to those who organised the exchange, you are wonderful. 
> 
> Find me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/EnlacingL/)


End file.
